


Kinda, Sorta, Maybe

by keelywolfe



Series: Synonyms [2]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, dreaming to waking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: It was a dream until it wasn't, and then Robbie wasn't sure what it was.





	

* * *

The thing was, Robbie knew it was a dream. 

He was a poor sleeper at the best of times, the smallest of sounds would wake him, and any attempts to muffle them with ear plugs or white noise had been dismal failures. Sleeping so lightly meant his dreams were particularly vivid and even though he knew, he _knew_ it was a dream, it _felt_ real until he finally jarred awake.

He'd know it was going to haunt him, of course it would; the smell of grass and apples, the solid feel of Sportacus's weight against him. But what filled his dream was that sound Sportacus had made, high and sharp, his voice just on the edge of cracking, a testament that he'd really, truly been affected. That it wasn't a game or at least it wasn't just a game. 

Whatever he was playing at, Robbie couldn't begin to guess.

"Robbie," whispered low and urgently against his ear, his plain, round ear that had fascinated Sportacus so. Oh, that was it, he wanted to hear his name in that voice a dozen times. He wanted to hear it begging him, he wanted… "Robbie, it's after noon. Wake up."

…wait, what?

Robbie jolted, blinking and garbled out a startled shriek at the Sportacus who was decidedly not a dream standing right in front of him.

"What in the name of the blasted heavens are you doing here?" he yelped out, fumbling with his blanket. Not that he thought Sportacus hadn't noticed just what sort of dream he'd been having, because that was the way Robbie's luck had been running lately.

Because he had no sense or manners or even any damn shame, Sportacus sat right down on the floor, crossed-legged and peering up at Robbie. "You told me you were going to plot against me today and I hadn't seen you yet," he gave that little half-shrug, the one that Robbie had only learned existed yesterday. "I got worried."

"You…got…" Robbie sputtered. "What did you---why would you worry about me?"

Again, that little shrug, "Maybe you fell as you were climbing down the ladder? Maybe you slipped on the floor? You were very tired last night." If it had been anyone else, anyone at all, Robbie would have called the look Sportacus gave him sly, "Honestly, so was I."

Okay that grin was definitely sly, was Sportacus _flirting_ with him, oh, he knew his soul was bereft of mercy but this was unfair…wait a minute. "If I were in trouble, wouldn't your little crystal have flashed and griped at you?"

"Hm, so it would have," Sportacus looked down at his chest and poked the little casing absently, "My mistake."

"Well, as you can see, I am perfectly fine," Robbie sniffed. "So if you wouldn't mind—"

"You're probably hungry since you missed breakfast," Sportacus interrupted cheerfully. "I brought you lunch."

Now that his brain was coming online, Robbie was able to conjure a proper sneer, "If you think because I let you have a bit of a grope you can start stuffing me with your sports candy nonsense—"

"Of course not, humans can't live on nothing but sports candy, Stephanie helped me make you a lunch." He held up a little brown paper sack, the sort of lunch a child might take on a school trip. 

Robbie snatched it away from him and peered reluctantly inside. Sure enough, there was a peanut butter sandwich, cut on the diagonal as was proper, and he could see some kind of jam gleaming within. There was also a tidy little plastic bag with exactly three cookies and a small carton of chocolate milk.

The temptation was there to throw the bag to the floor and denounce the wretched bag with an insult so scathing that Sportacus would slink away in shame for even attempting to feed him something vaguely nutritious. Only, now that he'd seen it, a peanut butter sandwich sounded terribly good just then.

Grudgingly, Robbie filched out the sandwich and started eating, grunting out something that might have optimistically been close to a thank you. He tried to pretend that Sportacus hadn't started to do sit ups on the floor in front of him, focusing on his sandwich. Strawberry jam. Acceptable.

Sportacus wasn't even breathing heavily, finishing with a showy twist. He slouched back on his elbows, watching Robbie eat which was fine because Robbie definitely hadn't been watching the flex and stretch of his abs. 

"So what are you planning on doing to get rid of me today?" Sportacus asked, conversationally. 

Robbie nearly choked, struggling to swallow down a lump of peanut butter and bread before rasping out, "What?"

"What sort of plan? I was thinking about it earlier. Today we are starting the summer reading program for the children, I assumed you'd try something with that. Oh!" He sat up, "I know! You could dress up like a librarian and steal all the forms for program so the kids can't write down the books they've read!"

Robbie stared at him. "Have you lost whatever passes for your mind?"

Sportacus furrowed his brow. "You don't think that it’s a good idea?"

"No!" Robbie snarled, "That's literally ten of the dumbest things I've heard since I woke up!

Sportacus counted on his fingers, mouthing the numbers silently, "There were only three parts in it."

"They were dumb enough to count as triple! To begin with, you can't plot against yourself and even if you could, how does that idea help chase you out of town?"

"Oh." Sportacus slumped back and Robbie did not, _did not_ stare at the flex of his stomach, his hips, as he settled into the rug. "I see your point. Maybe you could frame me for stealing the forms?"

"Yes, because reprinting forms for five children is such an arduous task that our great mayor wouldn't be able to handle it," Robbie said dryly. "Leave the villainy to me, you're terrible at it."

"Villainy is harder than it looks," Sportacus said agreeably. "Being a hero is easy, the hardest part is getting there on time.

"I'll take your word on that."

"You could still use the librarian idea," Sportacus said hopefully. "It would be a great disguise for reading day."

"Are you trying to get me to dress like an old woman with reading glasses and poor fashion sense?"

"That's not nice. They are in a library; they could read about fashion sense any time they want. And librarians can be men." 

"Hm. Maybe you just want to see me in a skirt." It really was useless, Robbie decided resignedly. He swallowed down the last bite of his sandwich before giving in to the urge to slide down to the floor and straddle those hips, spreading his hands over that flat belly. Sportacus grunted at the sudden heft of another body on his midsection but it didn't stop him from cupping Robbie's backside in both of his broad palms. A firm squeeze made Robbie choke on a squeak. "Easy on the merchandise!"

Sportacus gave him a quick grin. "You like it."

"This is a home invasion, you know, I should kick you out."

"If you were going to do that, you should have done it before you got in my lap." He sat up enough that he could steal a kiss and Robbie could feel the flex of his abs against his hands. He wanted to strip away that shirt and vest, wanted to dig his fingers in and scrape red lines into that pale skin. 

Sportacus's lips were terribly soft, teasing him with sweet kisses, gentler than last night, although he didn't spare the teeth nibbling a path up to Robbie's ear, wincingly sharp and it should probably be embarrassing how much Robbie wanted to just push into those bites and let them dig bruises into his skin. 

"Can I?" Sportacus whispered against his ear, his breath damp, followed by a twinge of teeth and for one bewildering moment Robbie thought Sportacus had somehow read his mind. It was an overwhelming relief for him to add, "Can I touch you?"

"You are touching me."

Silent laughter, breathed into his ear, "Can I touch you more?"

"You're asking now?" Robbie groaned. Why now, last night he hadn't been so blasted shy. To his dismay, Sportacus drew away, ignoring Robbie's wordless protest. He looked up at him with sky blue eyes, eyes Robbie hadn't been able to see last night, and a faint sense of dread settled into Robbie's stomach.

"Yes, I am asking," Sportacus said quietly, no trace of humor to him now. "Can I touch you?"

"Yes!" Robbie ground out. He snatched off that ridiculous hat, the goggles clattering against the floor and sank his hands knuckle-deep into blond curls. "Yes, blast it, yes, touch me!"

It seemed that was all the permission Sportacus needed. Say what you would about him, and Robbie had, the man was _fast_. Nimble as well and he made quick work of Robbie's belt, dragging up his shirt to spread a warm palm over Robbie's belly. It made him want to squirm in discomfort; his stomach was hardly the slab of muscle that Sportacus carted around with him. 

Sportacus didn't seem to mind, urging him to kneel up and leaning in before Robbie even registered what he was going to do to bury his face into that bare skin, inhaling deeply. "You smell so good," he murmured ticklishly against Robbie's belly, making him gasp and tighten his grip in Sportacus's hair. 

"I…ah…" Robbie swallowed thickly. Words, his oft-used companions, had abandoned him and he could only whimper as Sportacus mouthed lower, his chin pushing down Robbie's loosened waistband until it bumped against the tip of his erection. His hands were gentle as he lowered Robbie's trousers out of the way, letting his cock bounce free. 

Robbie closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly at the first press of lips against him. He couldn't watch this, he couldn't, he couldn't _not_ watch it and he finally narrowed his eyes, peering out from between his lashes as he watched those soft lips part to allow the hard length inside. He watched the way Sportacus's cheeks hollowed and filled as he slowly took him, let him slide back out. 

Tight, wet suction and Robbie's knees wobbled, the combined sight and sensation too much for them. Strong hands caught the backs of his thighs, holding him steady, and a frantic sort of whimper strangled loose from Robbie's throat at the feel of a tongue swirling over the tip in a slippery torment.

"Please," he choked out, fingers clenched too-tight into soft curls and Sportacus hummed against him, not a protest, not at _all_ , and that was as much as Robbie could stand. He came hard enough that the light behind his eyes turned crimson, dimly felt Sportacus startle at the wet rush of it, and sweet, merciful heavens he could feel Sportacus swallowing around him. Strong hands held him steady, thumbs stroking the hollows of Robbie's hipbones and when he finally managed to pull away, Sportacus let him slip free with a sound like an obscenity. 

His lips were wet and red and Robbie had his mouth against Sportacus's before he could even think it through, tasting salt and bitter, tasting _himself_ and it was Sportacus who gentled the kiss, soothing the franticness until they were only sharing breath.

"There," Sportacus whispered, "Now do you think you can plot against me?"

Plot against him? Robbie's brain felt like wet tissue and his knees were still refusing to cooperate. He managed a sort of dumb nod and Sportacus beamed at him, lips still that lovely, swollen pink as he lifted Robbie up from his lap and settled him back into the chair.

"Good, I'll be looking for you." It was only when he turned to leave that Robbie managed a feeble sort of protest.

"Wait, you haven't…don't you want to…" Robbie made a vague gesture in the direction of Sportacus's trousers, fairly certain that he wasn't carrying a banana in his pocket.

"No, I don't think so," Sportacus said thoughtfully. That sly grin shifted to out and out _wicked_ , "I think maybe you owe me one."

Robbie could only gape at him as Sportacus stole a last hard kiss, teeth grazing Robbie's lower lip before he darted away, only pausing to snatch his hat then he was up the ladder and out the hatch before Robbie could even scramble up something to _say_.

Sitting there in his chair with his trousers still undone, his belt hanging limply, with a crumpled paper bag that still had three cookies in it, it occurred to Robbie that he might just be in a terrible amount of trouble. 

Well, that was a problem for later. For now, he had a scheme to plot. Or so he'd been told. 

-finis-


End file.
